


If I Fell

by CarolinaNadeau



Series: Music Man Odds and Ends [1]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: At the footbridge, Becoming The Mask, Dancing together, Defrosting Ice Queen, F/M, Falling In Love, Ladykiller In Love, Love Confessions, Love Epiphany, Missing Scene, Partial canon retelling, Pre-Relationship, Still a conman, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3628866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolinaNadeau/pseuds/CarolinaNadeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Harold Hill had done a lot of difficult things in his life, nothing had ever been harder than trying not to fall in love with Marian Paroo…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My response to a challenge from Marianne Greenleaf! :D

From the moment he'd first seen her – even the moment that Marcellus had first described her to him – Harold Hill had thought of Marian Paroo as cold. This had certainly presented a challenge, but it didn't bother him much. He liked a challenge, for one thing, and truth be told, he didn't have much interest in melting her, either. Oh, he certainly hoped to break past her defenses so she'd stop resisting his amorous advances, but he was much more interested in getting her _hot_ than getting her warm. What he wanted was the heat of her naked body against his, and any further warmth was entirely unnecessary.

And honestly, it might have been a liability if she _hadn't_ been that way. That was precisely how Harold preferred his women to be, beautiful but cold in just the right ways. He needed a woman that wouldn't start falling all over him with declarations of love just because he took her to bed and gave her a good time. He needed a woman that he wouldn't feel the least bit regretful about leaving behind because he knew without a doubt that she wouldn't miss him, either.

Though she was certainly more resistant in the beginning than he would have liked, in many ways, Marian had seemed to be the perfect mark. She had that coldness that guaranteed that she wouldn't get attached, but at the same time, she wasn't the frigid virginal type who would ultimately prove a waste of his time and energy – Mrs. Shinn and the ladies had made quite certain that he knew that. Not that he couldn't have gotten past that hurdle if she _were_ that type – he'd done it before, and he'd certainly do it again if it meant he could have a woman as beautiful as Marian for his reward – but it was always so much more enjoyable if the woman he slept with knew what she was doing.

And whether Marian knew what she was doing or not, it was plainly obvious to Harold that she'd enjoy doing it. Her intense passions were right there for him to see, burning right beneath the chilly surface – there was fire in her eyes every time she turned on him in anger, and he could easily picture the way she'd look wearing that same fiery expression but saying _yes, yes, yes_. And that moment in the library when she'd almost let him kiss her, when she'd melted with dreamy desire, he'd seen exactly what kind of a lover she would be. The thought of Marian moaning and crying out with pleasure while writhing and undulating beneath him (and above him and beside him and wherever else she may have ended up in the course of the steamy, wild romps that he imagined for the two of them) obsessed him with an intensity stronger than any he could recall feeling over a potential conquest. She was just that enticing.

The librarian was making him feel like a teenager again, half-tortured by the fantasies that consumed him every night when he lay down in that lonely bed in the boardinghouse – torrid fantasies that haunted his dreams as well as his waking hours and often made it impossible to concentrate on anything else until he could provide himself with some form of release, however paltry it may have been in comparison to the real thing. But these were hopeful, anticipatory fantasies, too, because he was entirely confident that they would become reality within a few short weeks.

If Marian was hot in bed, who the hell cared if she was cold?

And then things had to go and get complicated. Everything had changed since the day the Wells Fargo wagon had delivered her little brother's cornet. The kid had been thrilled, of course, and Harold had to admit that he was genuinely happy to finally see that poor, sad boy with a smile on his face.

But Marian... he had sought to make her brother happy specifically to earn her goodwill, so she'd no longer want to see him run out of town, but God, he hadn't been prepared to deal with the reality of a joyful Marian. He couldn't have realized what he'd be up against.

For the first time ever, she'd turned to him with a real smile, caused by him, meant for him. He should have felt triumphant. This was a key victory in his conquest of River City and, more directly, _her_. But the con man was too bewitched to think of her in such a calculated manner right that moment.

The librarian knocked him breathless with that smile. Since he'd first laid eyes on her, he'd known that she was gorgeous beyond belief, but it wasn't until he'd seen her alight with joy that he'd come to realize the truth, an uncomfortably emotional, thrilling, terrifying truth –

_Marian Paroo was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen_.

If that radiant, sincere smile had been a one-time event, maybe Harold could have gotten past it, but as the days went by, it seemed that this would be the new norm between them. Even if he just passed the librarian on the street for a moment, her eyes would light up, and his heart would ache in the most disconcerting way.

Each time they met over the following week, he found that certain startling impulses would sneak up on him, impulses that made him ever-so-briefly aware that he wasn't solely interested in bedding her anymore. Harold found himself fantasizing about doing things with Marian that utterly shocked him in their chaste respectability – holding her hand, walking arm in arm, kissing her on the cheek or the top of the head. Sitting beside her, making her laugh, making her _happy_.

God, she was so lovely when she was happy.

This was a problem that he had never dealt with before, a question that he had never developed an answer to in his years and years of experience as a con man. _What do you do if you meet a woman who has a smile like an angel? What do you do if you genuinely like her, more than anybody you've ever known? What do you do if she makes you happier than anything else in the world ever has? What do you do? …_

xxx

If Marian had grown to like Harold after the band instruments were delivered, her alliance with him had been cemented completely after their afternoon in the Candy Kitchen. What's more, it was now undeniable that her fondness for him was _not_ merely platonic. The dreamy infatuation in her gaze when she'd turned back at the door and given her consent for him to call on her had been incredibly obvious. He had finally conquered her frosty exterior and brought those simmering passions nearly to the surface; he should have been ecstatic. Not only had she lost any desire to expose him, but he was also almost certainly mere days away from finally taking her to his bed.

And yet, again, he couldn't celebrate his hard-won victory without a hint of underlying doubt. River City was in his pocket at this point – that wasn't his concern. The problem was the unprecedented effect that the librarian was continuing to have on him, an effect that had now progressed beyond those vexing but fleeting pangs of the heart. Even during their very successful conversation at the Candy Kitchen, he had found himself stammering, mixing up words, saying things that made no sense, as if the strawberry phosphate he'd been sipping was the most potent liquor in the world. The real cause of his intoxication, of course, was her crimson lips and golden ringlets and ivory skin and voice like music. It was her sweet smile and long lashes and the way she cast her eyes down and blushed when she was pleased.

He had no idea why this should be the case – he'd spent the better part of his life in as close proximity to attractive women as he could manage, and he'd long, long ago stopped allowing a woman's physical beauty to drive him to distraction. But it was laughably insufficient to describe Marian Paroo as merely "a woman". There was no other woman in the world who could compare to her. She was in a class all her own.

The first time he'd had that thought, Harold wasn't quite sure what it meant, but he was definitely not comfortable with the implications.

The only thing for it was to carefully plan out exactly what he would say and do each and every time he encountered her for the remainder of his time in River City. Right now, he couldn't even afford to _think_ something about her unless he'd carefully considered his emotional state beforehand. He had to keep his distance, or… or…

He wasn't even sure he understood the alternative, in fact, but he knew that he could _not_ allow it to happen.

But there was only so much control Harold could exercise over the situation. After letting the boys out of band rehearsal one afternoon a few days after their Candy Kitchen conversation, he was shocked to see Marian waiting for Winthrop outside the high school – something she'd never done before. How could he have possibly planned for this encounter?

The young boy ran down the sidewalk to his sister, chattering loudly and excitedly, threw his arms around her and handed her his cornet, and then, just as quickly, ran off with a pack of his new friends. Marian watched him dart away with a wistful smile on her face – but of course, she didn't follow. However, she didn't leave, either. For some reason, she simply stood where she was, taking a moment to watch the breeze rustle in the trees, her expression beautifully serene.

Harold's heart lurched as he considered what he should do. He certainly hadn't been prepared for her to be here. Perhaps it would have been safer to avoid her – only a few steps and he could have ducked back inside. But the part of himself that _hadn't_ yet been reduced to a complete wreck over this woman remembered that he should be taking any opportunity possible to gain her trust, to inch a little closer to the prize he was seeking. He had to talk to her.

Today, Marian was wearing a peach afternoon dress with sleeves that fluttered around her elbows and a simple straw hat with a matching ribbon. Harold immediately noticed how the color complemented the charming blush in her cheeks, and then just as hastily tried to forget that he'd had that thought. He refocused his attention on the way the cut of the dress showed off her slender form and lovely curves, instead.

"Good afternoon, Miss Paroo!" he called with a tip of his hat as he drew near.

The librarian turned to him, and there was that beaming smile again – he'd steeled himself for it, but it still affected him profoundly. Even from a distance, he'd been able to see the love in her eyes when she'd embraced her brother, but _this_ look was very different, and just for him. The idea brought an unwelcome lump to his throat – he swallowed hard and tried to focus on the task at hand.

"Oh, good afternoon, Professor," Marian responded, giving him a prim, cordial nod that was rather at odds with the glowing fondness on her face. "Before he left today, Winthrop asked me to if I could meet him here to pick up his cornet right after practice. He and Davey and some others have some grand plans for the afternoon, it seems! I know that Mama and I shouldn't indulge his whims like that, and I don't intend to let it become a habit, but you have to understand what it's like for us, seeing him like this. Winthrop hasn't gone playing with friends since – for years."

The response floated into his mind, unbidden: _And you, Miss Marian, what haven't_ you _done for years? Smiled like that?_

In a desperate attempt to crush that unwelcome thought before it could take hold of him, Harold forced himself to act, to be showy and grandiose, to _sell_ something. Around Marian, it was far, far too easy to forget to do that.

"Why, that's wonderful," he declared, clapping his hands together with more fervor than was necessary. "See, the second I set eyes on that boy, I knew it would do him a world of good to get involved with the band."

"Oh, it has," Marian exclaimed. "I can hardly express how fortunate it is that you happened to come to River City this summer. If it weren't for you – the band – I don't know what it would have taken to bring back the Winthrop we know and love. Maybe it never would have happened."

"Your brother's a great kid – one of the very best," Harold agreed, grinning as broadly as he could in order to prevent any deeper emotion from showing on his face.

Instead of answering right away, the librarian simply gazed warmly at him, and the salesman wasn't sure what he should say. Her sweet expression was leaving him teetering on the brink of treacherous sentimentality once again. So Harold leapt right back into the only defense mechanism he had left against – _whatever this was_ – and reached for a topic about which he could bloviate and bluster and sell, sell, _sell_.

"So, Miss Marian, you're a musician. Have you tried out the Think System yourself, by any chance?" he blurted, almost wincing at his own gracelessness.

To his utter surprise, Marian did not find this question absurd. "I did, briefly," she admitted, slightly abashed. "I don't think it's the same thing for somebody who already has knowledge of an instrument – "

"No, no, of course not – "

"But I tried it out on a song for which I've never seen the sheet music – something my mother likes to play on our Victrola. She's been quite taken with _Carmen_ this summer, so – I tried playing _Toreador_." She laughed softly, shaking her head, and a few of the soft curls that had escaped her chignon over the course of the hot summer day tumbled down against her cheek. Harold tried not to think about how much he would have loved to curl one of those around his finger. "It went better than I expected, I suppose, but I could only figure any of it out with one hand, not the other. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem with the kind of instruments that you teach."

"Well, I, ah, I didn't design the system with piano in mind, yes. But perhaps you might be able to discover a method that I hadn't yet accounted for." He winked at her. "You'll have to let me know how you do with it."

"I will indeed," Marian affirmed, the corners of her mouth turning up in a wry, knowing little smile, and just for a moment, the con man feared that he'd been caught. _Did she know?_ he wondered frantically. She was far too smart not to know. But if she did know, then why would she continue to humor him like this?

Annoyed – but, admittedly, a bit impressed – by how easily this woman could stymie him, Harold again blurted out the next safe-sounding question that came to mind. "Have you played the piano all your life?"

Marian nodded. "Well, my mother taught me. I grew up with the piano. And I always thought – " She hesitated, as if unsure if she should continue. "I suppose I thought that, someday – "

A change had come over her in those last few moments. The smile he loved ( _loved_ was a dangerous word, he admonished himself) had faltered, and she blinked rapidly. Dismayed, Harold realized that her pretty hazel eyes were glistening with tears. Instead of finishing her sentence, Marian gave a brief, halfhearted shrug and dropped her eyes to the cornet she was holding – and then, just as swiftly as her mood had changed, she affected a blithe disposition once more.

"I'm sorry, it's nothing." The librarian laughed again, but this one was obviously forced, lacking that musical quality that he loved – _appreciated_ – so much.

Now Harold was back in deeply dangerous territory, because all he wanted was to see her happy and smiling again, and he feared that this desire had nothing to do with his calculated plan of seduction. But he had to say _something_. He couldn't bear to see her like this, and certainly not after he'd been the one to stir up whatever unpleasant thoughts she was having.

"You know, I saw the strangest thing today," he announced at last. "I was sure I must have been mistaken, but I was certain that I saw Mrs. Dunlop and Mrs. Hix walking into the library together – and they didn't look angry!"

At that, her expression brightened right away, the light coming back to her eyes. "Oh, Professor, the ladies told me everything a few days ago," Marian said with a laugh – and he was relieved that this time, her mirth was genuine. "It's truly remarkable how simple it all was – all they needed to do was _read_ a book or two. But of course, they never listened to _me_ whenever I suggested such a thing." She gazed up at him shyly, her cheeks flushing once again. "I suppose it's another thing that I have to thank you for."

Once again, Harold felt a sharp pang in his heart, and once again, he was left flustered and speechless. No one had ever felt deeply grateful to him – well, all right, he'd gotten Marcellus out of a few scrapes here and there, but that wasn't nearly the same as this. This simply wasn't what Harold Hill did. He ruined things, not fixed them, and he didn't make anybody happy except himself.

And what was his idea of "happiness", anyway? Right now, he was pretty sure that none of it had ever been half as rewarding as a pair of sweet hazel eyes gazing up at him with sincere gratitude and delight.

Harold tried to form a response but almost choked on his words, because, all at once, he realized just how badly he wanted to kiss Marian Paroo. Right then and there on the sidewalk outside the high school, he wanted to kiss her, and not as part of the con, nor as a step on the journey to get her to sleep with him. He wanted to kiss this lovely little librarian because it was the only way he could express what he was feeling right now.

And what he was feeling was – something that he couldn't name, but that he very definitely should _not_ have been feeling. Clearly, he had let this go much, much too far. It had been a terrible mistake to approach her this afternoon without a plan in mind. What he needed to do was extricate himself from this perilous situation as swiftly as possible and clear his head.

Instead, he took one more step too far and gently clasped her small, soft hand in his own, letting his fingers rest against hers for just a little too long in a faint imitation of the embrace he was longing to give her.

"Miss Marian, it brings me great joy to know that I could help you, _and_ your brother. There's no need to thank me." His voice was shaking, his hand trembling against hers.

Marian smiled, still looking him right in the eyes. "I'll thank you anyway."

The intimacy of the moment was astonishing, the way their fingers lightly touched and brushed against one another in the slightest of caresses, the way he could feel the faint thrum of her pulse beneath her skin. He'd never thought of a woman's hand this way before. What's more, Harold realized it would have been perfectly respectable of him to press a quick kiss against her hand before letting it go, and the temptation to do so was immense, but the single shred of good sense that he still had left advised him against such an egregious lapse in judgment. Good God, he couldn't even _hold_ her hand today without nearly losing his mind!

He wasn't himself around her – or, more accurately, he was _too much_ himself. If Harold hadn't known better, he might have thought that the librarian was conning him right back, that instead of exposing him to the townspeople, she'd concocted an elaborate plan to expose him to himself. But it was no plan of hers – it was his own damn fault for letting his guard down. It was imperative that he put a stop to this right now.

Yet _still_ , the con man did nothing but stand there and revel in the warmth of this wonderful, captivating woman's hand in his own, until at long last, her fingers slipped from his, and they both took a tentative step backward almost at the same time.

"Oh, goodness, I realize now that I've stayed here much too long," Marian exclaimed abruptly with a shaky laugh, her hand flying to her cheek in a charming gesture of surprise. "I really do need to get back to the library!"

Exhaling deeply, Harold gave her a friendly nod. "Well, good day, Miss Marian." His voice came out much lower and more serious than he'd intended it to be, but perhaps he could use that to his advantage. Women had always loved his voice, after all – but he once again found that it now galled him to callously group _Marian_ with all the other women he'd ever met.

"Good day," the librarian breathed, blushing and trembling – and any sense of triumph that he might have felt over reducing her to such a state with his voice and touch alone was completely negated by the fact that she had somehow done the same to him.

As she turned and began to walk away down the road, he couldn't take his eyes off her at first, and he stood as if in a trance, watching the ribbons on her hat flutter in the breeze and trying to catch his breath. Finally, the salesman mustered up enough sense to turn from her and continue back toward the high school – not that he needed anything else in the gymnasium, but for the time being, he needed to be alone, and he certainly needed to not walk in the same direction as her.

There was no doubt about it – Harold had failed abysmally today, and he was appalled at his rashness and lack of discipline. On the one hand, he certainly hadn't lost any ground with Marian. In fact, he had actually made a bit of progress. But it sure as hell hadn't been worth the utter havoc that had been unleashed within his own mind. Gritting his teeth, he castigated himself fiercely for letting himself get so cocky. This wouldn't – _couldn't_ – happen again.

But then he remembered those beautiful eyes glowing with gratitude, with such open, genuine fondness toward him, the likes of which he hadn't seen in many, many years – and he just couldn't bring himself to wholly regret coming down to speak to her.

xxx

Long after he'd returned to the boardinghouse that evening, Harold couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Marian – even though he repeatedly tried to remind himself that dwelling on it was the worst thing he could do for his precarious emotional state. But he wasn't lingering solely over the parts he'd enjoyed, either. What was still bothering him was that brief moment of sadness that had broken through the librarian's pleasant demeanor.

_She thought that someday –_

All at once, it all clicked into place, and he wondered how he could have been so stupid as to miss it before. She'd said that her mother had taught her piano from a very young age, and she'd thought that someday, she'd do the same for her own children – but evidently, that was a dream that she'd finally accepted would not ever come true.

As he considered this sobering reality, Harold felt himself grow indignant on her behalf. The girl couldn't have been more than twenty-five – all right, maybe twenty-six, if everybody was so convinced of her spinster status – and she was not only beautiful, but so good-hearted. She should have had a bundle of children if she wanted them, smart, pretty children with honey-blonde curls like hers, and a husband who worshiped the ground she walked on and held her close every single night. If fate could pair almost every one of those mean, clucking biddies with a husband but leave _her_ behind, then there was truly no justice in the world. If there had ever been a person who deserved all the good things that life could offer, it was Marian… and yet she had so little.

He recalled the cruel and mocking tones of those now-repentant ladies as they'd informed him of all they knew about the librarian's true nature, and for the first time, it occurred to him that they might have simply been lying about everything, or at least ill-informed. Harold, of all people, knew that a person's character couldn't be judged by the persona that he or she presented to the world – but seeing Marian like this, he was certain that she was too sweet, too _warm_ , to have played the cold-hearted seductress to that Madison man. Up until very recently, he'd assumed that she must have been merely feigning virtue in order to maintain her reputation, but he knew her too well to believe that so easily now.

Maybe Madison had taken advantage of _her_. That thought made Harold physically ill and half-ready to hunt down and kill a man who was already dead, but he had to remind himself that there were plenty of other explanations, too. Maybe there hadn't even _been_ an affair. After all, just because circumstances looked a certain way to nosy outsiders, it didn't make it so. The revelation wouldn't have shocked him – the way that the librarian blushed and glowed like a maiden at his slightest flirtation these days was not characteristic of a woman who'd been with a man. Everything about Marian bespoke innocence to him, and, quite contrary to his usual feelings about innocence in a woman, he found this incredibly charming – enchanting, even.

And yet the cold, stark truth was that no matter how much happiness he wished her, Harold was going to hurt her. This sweet, honest woman who had given up all hope for happiness was _falling_ for him, just as he'd planned it, and he was going to give her absolutely nothing that she wanted or deserved. The idea of breaking Marian's heart was despicable – yet the very fact that he felt that way was intensely alarming. The powerful dissonance of these conflicting emotions was nearly enough to give him a headache.

If there'd been any way to get it in River City, Harold was sure that he would have been driven to drink that evening.

xxx

He was welcome to call on her any night this week, she'd told him a few days ago at the Candy Kitchen, and Harold had been having a hard time resisting that invitation. But he couldn't be too over-eager, not when he was going through this kind of emotional turmoil. Frankly, he was becoming downright afraid of spending too much time with Marian. The way that she made him feel was far more dangerous than her knowledge of music and Mayor Shinn's distrust put together. Yet Harold was also finding himself growing addicted to that extraordinary feeling. Nothing else in the world compared to the exhilaration of being in her presence, so why shouldn't he take genuine enjoyment where he could find it?

He knew the answer. It was because she'd turned out to be warm, and damn it all, she was making him start to suspect that he could be warm too.

The con man did his best to think through this rationally. He wouldn't call on Marian tonight, not after all the troubling thoughts he'd had today. He was desperate to see her again, yes, but that was the _problem_ – that was exactly what he needed to get over, and fast. So he'd visit her tomorrow, instead, right before the Ice Cream Sociable, which, with any luck, she would attend along with him. He'd turn on the charm more than he ever had for her before, and get her into bed just before he left town – because even if she _was_ an innocent woman, Marian was clearly infatuated with him, and she wanted him, whether or not she realized what it was she wanted. It wouldn't take too much more to seduce her now. And he'd get out of River City carrying a wallet full of cash and some delightful memories of making love to the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen – _would_ ever see, he was certain.

_…And then what?_

Because just for a moment, a brief, highly irrational moment, he could see nothing appealing about getting back on the train that had brought him here. Walking away from River City, from Marian, had sounded to him like an untenable course of action. What else was out there for him to he be walking _towards_? And what would happen after he'd left? She'd be sad, hurt, alone, hopeless – the last thing in the world he wanted for her, the last thing she deserved. And he – well, he wouldn't see Marian ever again, and life without Marian suddenly sounded neither interesting nor worthwhile.

Harold's blood almost ran cold in his veins when he finally realized the track that his mind was going down, just in time to pull the brake and bring the train to a screeching halt. He was faring much, much worse than he'd realized if he could be harboring such ideas. What he had to do was rid himself of that damn persistent idea that there was anything special going on here. Very slowly and deliberately, he went over the plan in his mind, fighting like mad to keep all emotion out of it. He would call on the librarian tomorrow night, remembering that this was all just a con. He would keep his goals firmly in mind – keeping her on his side, and getting her into bed. The rest was all distraction.

Because if he let himself think what he really felt – that Marian Paroo was gorgeous, sweet, charming, intelligent, fascinating, vulnerable, _warm_ – Harold Hill would be a goner. Where he would be gone _to_ , specifically, was far beyond the scope of his experience or his imagination, but he knew that he didn't want to go there.

(Except, of course, in those fleeting moments when he suspected that, deep down, he _did_.)


	2. To Make You Feel My Love

Even in the midst of the most bewildering dilemma that he had ever faced, Harold had repeatedly tried to convince himself that, with enough planning and foresight, he would be able to resist the unsettling influx of feelings that Marian inspired in him and escape River City completely unaffected by his experiences there. But he'd been an utter fool to think that he could control or predict anything about this situation – and he'd been a fool to think that he even wanted to. The evening of the Ice Cream Sociable had been filled with one revelation after another, and when it was all over, he had emerged a different man.

When the day started out, of course, he could not have possibly imagined that things would end up as they did.

He'd woken up that morning from the most unsettling dream. Lately, Harold had been dreaming of Marian more and more often. Certainly it wasn't surprising that he'd had a great deal of erotic dreams about her – he'd not dreamed about any other woman in that way since he was very young, but he'd reasoned that the dreams could easily be explained away by the librarian's extraordinary beauty and desirability. What troubled him far more was when those dreams began to take a decidedly less carnal turn. A few times, his dreams of lovemaking had led to him holding her close afterward, stroking her golden hair while they talked and kissed and laughed together like a man and woman in love. Other dreams had actually begun and ended like this, entirely omitting their presumed tumble between the sheets. But most distressing were the few dreams he'd had that were not even remotely related to matters of the bedroom, dreams of doing some incredibly simple activity with her and yet being wonderfully, perfectly content.

The night before the Ice Cream Sociable, Harold had dreamed of laying on a picnic blanket with Marian on some isolated hillside while the warm summer breezes brushed over them. They'd been cuddled up and watching the clouds together, playfully pointing out shapes in them – the con man couldn't even remember the last time he'd done such a silly thing. The dream had been entirely uneventful, but what he remembered more than anything was the incredible feeling of peace he had felt during it. There was nowhere that he had to go, nothing that he had to worry about, no pressure to be anything other than what he was. And, most blissfully of all, he had Marian by his side, and somehow he'd known that this would always be the case. She was smiling so beautifully, so happy to be with him, and he'd been every bit as elated as she was, happier than he'd ever known he could be.

When Harold awoke, he'd been ever-so-briefly wistful for that feeling – and then absolutely horrified at himself as he slowly recalled the specifics of his dream. Between his enormous lapses the day before and the dream he'd just had, it was clear that he was in a very bad way, but he was certain that he possessed the willpower to overcome these minor setbacks. So Harold had resolved to fix his sights more firmly than ever on what was important. He'd counted his money again and congratulated himself on a job well done; he'd pushed away all thoughts of Marian's sweet smiles and deep longings in favor of imagining her legs wrapped tightly around his waist while she urged him on and begged him for more in throaty moans.

He had gone into the evening with his confidence in his scheme fully restored.

As long as his pursuit of Marian was motivated strictly by carnal desire and not sentimentality, Harold knew he would be safe, and he'd done a fairly good job of staying in that mindset tonight when he'd first called on her – it didn't hurt that she'd dressed up in the most delicious crimson ensemble that he could so easily imagine slipping right off her. It was also not as easy to be sentimental when he'd found her inexplicably cold and distant with him, as if she'd suddenly regressed to become the Marian of weeks before. It had almost been enough to make Harold throw up his hands in frustration and leave, but he knew that if he did, he would only lose more ground with her. So he'd ever so carefully worked through the sudden doubts that had overcome her until she was warm and open to him once more, and then he'd finally suggested the idea of meeting her in private – at the footbridge, which he'd learned was the ideal local spot for a little illicit canoodling from overhearing a few of Tommy and Zaneeta's clandestine conversations.

Looking back on it now, Harold could see that he should have been able to predict his coming downfall from as early as when she'd tried to refuse his invitation, and he'd had to work a little harder to charm her. Once again, he'd taken a step too far – standing across from the librarian on her porch as she gazed at him with dreamy, heavy-lidded eyes, utterly swept up in her desire for him, Harold realized too late that he was looking at _her_ in exactly the same way, bewitched and entranced by her very presence. It hadn't taken one iota of pretension for him to tell her, with complete, ardent sincerity, that he wanted nothing more than to seize the moment with her and make tonight a night worth remembering.

It had worked, and he'd gotten the answer that he wanted, but in the process, he'd given a little more of himself to her, and he wasn't sure if he could ever get it back.

xxx

He'd had fifteen minutes to recover from the overwhelming incident on her front porch and resolve not to let anything similar happen again, but it didn't do a thing to prepare him for the moment when Marian arrived at the sociable.

She'd been quite far away from him when his eyes had first lit upon her as she walked through the gateway of the park along with her mother and brother, but the entire world had seemed to fall away from him at that moment, all other sights and sounds blurring out of focus. As she drew closer, he stood as if in a trance, barely able to believe his eyes.

Tonight, Marian Paroo was a vision so perfect that no words could describe her.

Harold had spent so much time trying to imagine the straitlaced librarian with her hair down, but he could never have pictured her like _this_ – charming, perfectly-formed banana curls resting against her neck, hazel eyes glowing brighter than ever, a bow adorning her hair and her body swathed in an exquisite, draped and clinging dress of pink organdy. She looked so young, girlish and carefree – she looked like the woman that he now knew her to be, and now all of River City could see it, too.

He was well aware that he was supposed to be the one in control here, and it wouldn't do for Marian to catch him looking at her like a man utterly besotted. But his eyes couldn't get enough of her. Every moment spent _not_ looking at her felt like a waste.

As a generally practical man who'd spent his whole life in motion, Harold had never taken much time to linger over the beautiful things that always seemed to inspire people – sunsets or landscapes or art. And while he'd certainly always cultivated a strong appreciation for pretty women, he'd never thought of a woman's beauty as the sort of thing that could _move_ a person on that deep, sublime level that he could never seem to reach. But gazing upon Marian was like seeing every beautiful thing in the world rolled into one, and then some. It would have been impossible for him not to be captivated.

And then he'd managed to coax her into dancing the Shipoopi with him on the pavilion. She'd been all spinning skirts and flying curls, laughing and giving him that brilliant smile as they navigated the steps together, clinging close in his arms, flushed and gasping, and nothing in the world had ever felt so right. There was something incredibly intimate about dancing with her like this – it almost felt wrong to perform such a sensual display before all of River City, as if all the heated tension between them had been laid bare for everybody to witness. But their dance had stirred up his lust and his longing all at once. As he held her on his knee at the end of the song, once again basking in the warm glow of her radiant expression, he'd been struck by a strange thought that created an ache in his heart: he wanted her, but he also wanted _her_.

He'd had so many of those vague and confusing thoughts lately that he no longer tried to make sense of each one. He simply let her go back to her family and then walked to the footbridge to await their upcoming rendezvous.

The salesman hadn't been certain of how to picture River City's most romantic locale, but he discovered that it was a truly lovely little place, isolated in an intimate little alcove of green and surrounded by clear, reflective water. It was all so idyllic that it almost looked as if it had been designed intentionally to be a meeting place for lovers. Once again, he found himself experiencing the most uncanny emotions, longing for something that was just out of his reach, certain that a different man, a better man, might be able to find it here.

Harold wasn't sure anymore what he was even expecting that they'd do here. He supposed that they'd just talk about nothing in particular until he finally convinced the librarian to kiss and canoodle with him. Originally, he'd hoped to spirit her away back to the hotel with him so they could engage in something a little more hot and heavy, and God, he still wanted her more than he'd ever wanted any woman in his life. But now he knew for sure that Marian was utterly innocent, maybe even more innocent than any woman he'd ever had – she said that she'd "never been to the footbridge with a man," could that mean that she'd never even been _kissed_? – and he _couldn't_ push her so far in one night, especially not if he was only going to up and leave her afterwards. He cared about and respected her far too much for that. He'd be open to and eager for whatever happened tonight, but he wasn't going to sleep with her. It was a sacrifice so profound that it almost hurt to think about, but it was the only right thing to do.

The very fact that he was even having these thoughts confirmed something that Harold had been fearing for a while now: despite all of his efforts to smother and stifle it, his conscience had returned, alive and well. If he hurt Marian, he could never forgive himself, and the full implications of that discovery sent the con man reeling. How was he going to continue living the way he was if he could no longer separate his own selfish actions from the consequences they would have for others? Could he ever be the same again after this – and, most frightening of all, would he even want to be?

xxx

When the librarian joined him at the footbridge at last, Harold had been fully prepared to flirt and make small talk until she fell into his arms. It would be difficult to remain completely detached with her looking like a romantic dream come true, but he'd had a little time to think of the right things to say, and he was pretty certain that he knew how to skirt any of the issues that tugged at his heart.

Instead, Marian had looked him in the eyes and told him that she _loved_ him – that though she wasn't expecting a single thing in return, she still wanted him to know the incredible beauty and happiness that he had brought into her lonely life. Harold had known that she was in love with him to _some_ degree, he had to admit, but the depth of feeling she had confessed to him had gone far beyond what _any_ woman had ever felt for him.

And there she was in front of him, beautiful and honest and generous, opening her entire heart and soul to him even when she knew there was no way he could return the favor. The walls he had so long ago constructed around his heart, walls that had already been weakening and crumbling for weeks now, were no match for that.

So Harold did what he had wanted so badly to do the day before – he drew Marian into his arms and kissed her, not because he had any premeditated plan or ulterior motive, but because words would have been utterly insufficient to convey the full depth of what he felt for her. And, God, those kisses – though they were intensely passionate, they were so gentle, so _innocent_ , and yet they'd electrified him in a way that no other kiss ever had. Yes, he still ached to make love to Marian, but in that moment, with the librarian nestled in his arms at long last, her soft lips finally, finally meeting his, Harold felt no lustful urgency, just endless adoration and the sense that maybe, perfection really did exist in this world.

It had been the happiest moment of his life.

Part of him had wished he could just forget everything else and lose himself in the exhilarating feeling of kissing and embracing this wonderful, gorgeous, darling woman while he still could, but then Marcellus had to show up at the least opportune moment only to remind him of where he was and what was happening. Harold was still a con man, a liar, a scoundrel, and there was nothing he could do to change that. The pain of it cut through him like a knife. Even if he had been capable of giving Marian what she deserved, it wouldn't matter. Before long, she wouldn't love him anymore, and perhaps she would hate him all the more for ever having loved him so much.

But then had come the greatest revelation of all – Marian had handed him a page she'd torn from the Indiana State Educational Journal, a page that proved quite conclusively, in a few simple lines, that he was no professor. Even more importantly, it proved he hadn't fooled or tricked or deceived her into loving him after all.

_She'd known everything all along – and she loved him anyway._

The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was also, without a doubt, the most beautiful _person_ , in heart and mind and soul. And whatever he felt for her, whatever it could be called, was far, far too real and too profound to be simply pushed aside or forgotten. So Harold simply stopped trying.

xxx

What had passed since they'd departed the footbridge together were some of the strangest and most uncomfortable minutes of his existence. Harold's heart was soaring because she loved him – but aching because he still had to leave her. And his mind was twisting itself in knots trying to figure out why he _cared_ so very much, or how he could feel so deeply for her and still not know how to identify the emotions.

On their walk back to her house, neither of them spoke much, and Harold was grateful for that. The librarian brought up a thread of idle conversation here and there, but she didn't push him for the slightest acknowledgement of what had just passed between them. But how could he not acknowledge it? The world as he knew it had fundamentally changed, and he didn't know how to behave. Now that he was painfully aware of his own conscience once again, he should have felt terrible for being unable to return the feelings that she'd just expressed. But, though he certainly did feel a poignant sort of anguish, that wasn't exactly the correct reason for it.

Harold felt like a stranger in his own skin, feeling things he couldn't name, wanting things he couldn't articulate.

Standing out in her front yard while Marian went upstairs to retrieve her shawl, he forced himself to think for the first time in his life about an essential truth – _who was Harold Hill_?

This wasn't about the name. True, it wasn't the name he'd been born with, but it had been his name for several years now, and it was certainly the name of the man who had slowly come to find himself this month. There was no need to dwell on whether or not the name was real.

No, the question he was asking was deeper than that. _Who was the man that Marian Paroo had fallen in love with_?

Now that his conscience had awoken, he was fully prepared to call himself a dirty, rotten crook – but Marian wouldn't love him if that were all he was. There had to be something more that she could see in him, and he wanted so badly to see it for himself.

Remembering the paper he'd tucked into his pocket, Harold unfolded the page from the Indiana State Educational Journal and stared down at it – such a simple piece of paper was the one thing she would have needed to destroy him. And yet she'd freely chosen to spare him, to let him stay, because of the happiness he had brought into her life, and that happiness had eventually led her to love, true and pure love that was so much more than he deserved.

Ultimately, though, all of that love would have come to nothing if it had been directed toward an illusion of a man, if it had all had to come crumbling down when she realized who he really was – but that hadn't happened. It wasn't going to happen, because she had known everything all along.

Marian hadn't fallen in love with the fictional Professor Harold Hill, bandleader extraordinaire. She had fallen in love with Harold Hill, a con man who had come to town selling empty promises and yet somehow brought joy and music into her life and her heart. It shouldn't have been possible, and yet it was.

Harold's head was spinning as he thought over all the things he had discovered over the whirlwind of the past few days. He could feel the last vestiges of those walls around his heart falling to pieces at last. No one had ever been grateful to him. No one had ever been happy because of him. No one had ever loved him – not the real him.

And not only did Marian love him – not only did she see something good in him –

_He loved her._

There was no other word for it. He loved everything about her – her kindness, her intelligence, her sharp tongue, her quiet strength, her delicate primness, every blessed hair on her golden head. And, though he had no experience with true love whatsoever, it was clear that this was not some fleeting infatuation. He knew without a doubt that he wanted Marian in his life, now and forever.

In the face of this simple truth, all the confusion and uncertainty that Harold had been feeling melted away, now that he no longer had to dodge and deny and scramble for other explanations. Everything made perfect sense now. Every brand-new feeling she'd stirred up in him that he had been unable to account for – every inexplicable joy, every protective instinct, every moment spent thinking that she was far and away the most wonderful woman in the world – all of it was because he _loved_ her.

When his dear, darling Marian emerged from her house at long last, Harold's heart had nearly burst with what he now recognized as love, and it was all he could do not to run to her, lift her up into the air and spin her around in his elation. He'd wanted to tell her – _needed_ to tell her – right away, but just as he'd tried to do so, everything had fallen to pieces around them all at once, and he'd lost his chance to make his true feelings known. Marcellus arrived, then Mrs. Paroo, carrying news of the mob that was chasing him down after the Ice Cream Sociable had collapsed into chaos.

He cursed how blind and stubborn he had been – _perhaps he was always meant to be an Iowan, after all_ , he thought bitterly. If only he had realized that he loved her just a bit sooner – even yesterday, before the situation had grown so critical – maybe he could have fixed things. Maybe he could have found a way to return all the money and apologize for what he'd done. But it was too late now. At long last, he was going to have to pay the piper, so to speak. To be with her now, if it were even possible, would most certainly require him to submit to great suffering and humiliation first. Would she wait for him if he were thrown in jail for years? How much of their new life together would they miss out on because of that? And really, that was the _best_ of the likely scenarios he could envision. It was entirely possible that he would be subjected to irreparable physical harm, if the vigilantes were serious with their talk of tar and feathers.

And Marian, generous and unselfish as he was, had given him not only permission to leave, but _encouragement_. All she wanted was for him to be safe, even if it meant that she would never see him again. Though it would have broken both their hearts, it wouldn't have been a betrayal for him to take her up on that offer and escape whatever pain was headed his way.

But it wasn't an option for him. It hadn't been for a while, now.

That sneaking suspicion he'd had yesterday now presented itself before him with perfect clarity – there was no longer any part of him that wanted to get on that train. Everything he cared about in the world was here.

As if to demonstrate that point, little Winthrop had showed up right then, betrayed and brokenhearted, and Harold had felt his heart just about break as well. He'd been so proud of making that boy happy, and now everything was ruined. He tried to convince the kid that he had never meant to hurt him, but how much could he say? Winthrop was absolutely right to hate him. It was the reaction that he'd expected from _everybody_ once the truth was revealed – it was Marian who shocked him with her extraordinary trust and devotion.

As he tried his best to fix things with Winthrop, Harold had almost blurted out right then and there that he was in love with his sister, but he'd stopped himself just in time – that wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He needed to tell _her_ , not her brother. But Harold's backpedaling got the boy upset all over again, and he didn't know what else he could do.

It was Marian who intervened then, desperate for her brother to see things as she did and not lose the precious faith he'd gained. Harold listened to the way she described the changes he'd brought to River City this summer – music and color and light – and what he heard was a description of the changes that she'd brought to _his_ life.

The world before Marian had been dull, monotonous, meaningless. Now it had a brilliant, shining center, a _purpose_. Every day, he woke up excited just because he knew he would see her. Knowing that he'd made her happy even for a moment made his entire day. He realized that he would willingly, gladly devote his entire life to making her happy... and even as he came to understand the gravity of what that would mean, he was not frightened. Not so long ago, he would have viewed such an enormous commitment as being tied down, trapped, but he'd been so ignorant of what it would be like to actually have a _reason_ to settle down. All that he feared now was _losing_ Marian, not staying with her.

That future that he'd wished for her to find – he hadn't been fully conscious of the odd pang of wistful envy that had struck him when he'd concocted the hypothetical situation yesterday evening, but now he realized exactly what he'd been feeling. _He_ wanted to be the adoring husband who would hold her close each and every night. And, as much as it shocked him to even be willing to contemplate such matters, he wanted that bundle of kids to be _his_. It was undeniable that Marian deserved a hell of a lot better than him, but if he was the one she loved, he would be honored to stay by her side forever.

Of course, on the other hand, he had to consider what it would truly mean to make such an all-encompassing and irrevocable change in his life –

But there was no other hand.

Even the enormity of what he was giving up could not affect him, because he now recognized that before he'd come to River City, he'd had nothing at all. It was only because he hadn't had the barest glimpse of what real joy could look like that he thought he had been satisfied. He had been far too easily pleased.

This Harold Hill, the _real_ Harold Hill, didn't want stolen money or a succession of heartless affairs with women. He didn't want to wander aimlessly from town to town. That was no life – it was a way of avoiding it. Who, other than Marcellus, had he stopped for one moment to really _know_ in the past twenty years?

Harold didn't want his life to be a series of nameless faces, never caring about or distinguishing one from the other except as they could provide a means to his selfish ends. Though he had no idea how it had happened, it wasn't Marian alone who had charmed him – he _cared_ about these people, about this town. The con man couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like a member of a community, but here, he truly did, and he loved it. He wanted to watch Winthrop grow into a strong and confident young man, and he wanted to be there for him as he did. He wanted to see Tommy Djilas come into his own and maybe even marry Zaneeta. He wanted to meet Marcellus' kids when he inevitably had them with that Ethel of his. Hell, he even wanted to watch how Mayor Shinn would bungle one holiday celebration after another.

He wanted Marian, and River City, and everything that came along with them.

Again, the librarian and her brother urged him to run, to save himself – and, as he had yet to declare his feelings or intentions aloud, Harold knew that he still could have taken that opportunity. He could have changed his mind.

But, of course, there was no decision to be made. He couldn't return to an empty life after he'd glimpsed pure bliss – and he wasn't going to consign his beloved Marian to that fate, either.

"I can't go, Winthrop." His voice was calm and certain; he felt no doubt or fear. He was simply stating a fact, after all.

The boy looked back at him in confusion. "Why not?"

Harold knew that the only way he could hope to have a life with his love was to stay in River City, and the only way _that_ could happen would be if he could somehow earn the townspeople's forgiveness. After what he had done, that would be next to impossible, especially seeing as they'd been whipped into such a fury tonight.

But something impossible had already happened – Marian knew exactly what he was and she _loved_ him. If one miracle could take place, what would prevent another? That was the hope he would hold onto tonight, because come hell or high water, he would not leave her.

And he told her so.

"For the first time in my life, I got my foot caught in the door."

Somehow, even amidst of all this internal and external pandemonium, the silver-tongued salesman's gift for words had not abandoned him entirely. But as he gave voice to the life-changing sentiment, looking right into his beloved's eyes, there was no mistaking exactly what he meant.

Astonished, Marian gazed up at him, her wide hazel eyes brimming with love and, for the first time, _hope_. There could be a future for them – there _would_ be, because the only future he could even imagine anymore was one with her in it. It didn't matter what it would take to make it happen. He would do or give or endure absolutely anything for the chance to build a life with her.

As he helped the woman he loved up to her feet, Harold returned the beautiful declaration of love she had given to him earlier, but he couldn't even finish the short phrase before sheer emotion overwhelmed him, and he had to simply whisper the final words against her ear.

" _There was love all around, but I never heard it singing. No, I never heard it at all_ – till there was you."

He took Marian in his arms and held her close, finally, _finally_ able to understand why it had always felt like she belonged there. Every moment of his entire wretched life had been leading him straight to her loving embrace. They were each exactly what the other needed, and they had been born to find each other in this way, he was sure of it.

"Oh, Harold," she breathed, her voice choked by tears of joy, and he held her tighter still, needing to reassure her – and maybe himself – that this was all real.

"I love you, Marian." Now that he was finally at liberty to say them, Harold whispered the words again and again, and each time was a new baptism in truth, each time was another step toward freedom from the stifling falsehoods about life and love that he'd let himself believe for so very long.

Yes, he had brought out a different, more carefree and optimistic side of his dear little librarian as she'd opened up to him and to life, but what she had done for _him_ was even more profound. Marian had somehow recognized the good man who still lived inside the depraved scoundrel he'd become, and she'd not only fallen in love with him, she'd extended her hand to him and gently invited him to come out.

So, for the first time in many, many years, Harold Hill experienced the extraordinary peace of simply being _himself_. He was just a man who loved the woman in his arms more than anything, and he was ready to do whatever he had to do to keep her in his life forever.

xxx

They'd had to pull him right out of his beloved's embrace in order to arrest him, and the last that he'd seen of Marian, she was behind him somewhere in the crowd, clinging close to her mother.

But as soon as they'd dragged him into the high school classroom where the entire town was assembling to await his judgment, she was by his side in an instant with a breathless exclamation of his name. They had, at most, a few moments to exchange any private words before the commotion settled and Mayor Shinn took control of the room, but the librarian was clearly intending to take full advantage of every second.

Right away, she reached for his bound hands, eyes wide with concern. "Oh, you poor dear," she murmured as she examined them. Gently, she pushed the handcuffs aside and lightly massaged the slightly reddened skin beneath them in an attempt to ease any of the physical pain they might have caused him. The sweetness of the gesture made his heart ache.

How could she love a man who was being taken away in handcuffs, and very justly so? Her capacity for forgiveness was positively immeasurable. She deserved every happiness in the world, and if he could only live through this ordeal, he would personally ensure that every one of her dreams came true.

Harold tried to summon his voice, unsure if he could even do that much. "Marian." In his current state, he was pathetic, useless – he couldn't even reach out one finger to touch her. But he needed her to look him in the eyes as he spoke, and she did. "Marian, no matter what happens, I love you," he whispered, his voice strained with grief and remorse. "Please know that."

But she shook her head vehemently, squeezing his hands more tightly than ever. "Nothing will happen to you. I won't allow it."

Though her voice was trembling slightly and her eyes shining with tears, Marian was _smiling_ , her beautiful face radiating complete and utter faith in him. Even now, in the midst of his darkest night of the soul, she had no fear that things would not work out for the very best. She believed every word of what she was saying, and, because he loved her and trusted her and she was the center of his world, Harold felt himself beginning to believe her, too.

Just by being her extraordinary self, Marian had been the light that had guided him to all of the happiness he'd found so far. Now all he could do was to put all of his faith in her, as she had in him, and allow her to lead him out of the darkness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention to any new readers that this chapter could be considered to lead directly into the first fic I ever wrote, Love Sneaks In! :)


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